<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050</id><updated>2011-07-08T03:40:27.864-04:00</updated><category term='new year&apos;s'/><category term='pictures'/><category term='animals'/><category term='sad'/><category term='asian'/><category term='funny'/><category term='personal'/><category term='news'/><category term='books'/><category term='literature'/><category term='korean dramas'/><category term='academia'/><category term='homework'/><category term='rain'/><category term='survey'/><category term='repost'/><category term='mentalfloss'/><category term='billie'/><category term='trivia'/><category term='men'/><category term='nerdiness'/><category term='shakespeare'/><category term='self-pity'/><category term='writing'/><category term='love'/><category term='guilty pleasure'/><category term='2008'/><category term='humor'/><title type='text'>Undercover Romantic</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm not bitter</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-5200805290559920972</id><published>2009-06-09T22:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T22:14:00.953-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Blogs!</title><content type='html'>I've moved to Tumblr. From here on out, I'm only gonna use this blog for commenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Please visit &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://cuddlycynic.tumblr.com"&gt;http://cuddlycynic.tumblr.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; to keep up with me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-5200805290559920972?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/5200805290559920972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2009/06/moving-blogs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/5200805290559920972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/5200805290559920972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2009/06/moving-blogs.html' title='Moving Blogs!'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-1788667049095931894</id><published>2008-12-31T08:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T08:27:40.975-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One less bell to answer&lt;br /&gt;One less egg to fry&lt;br /&gt;One less man to pick up after&lt;br /&gt;I should be happy&lt;br /&gt;But all I do is cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-1788667049095931894?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1788667049095931894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/hello-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/1788667049095931894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/1788667049095931894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/hello-2009.html' title='Hello 2009'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-2405315275828135465</id><published>2008-12-31T06:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T06:17:29.897-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='billie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Cute picture of the day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVtUhKlQwlI/AAAAAAAAALA/gSgEw38IEb8/s1600-h/PC310085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVtUhKlQwlI/AAAAAAAAALA/gSgEw38IEb8/s320/PC310085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285911516402467410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My miniature schnauzer, Billie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-2405315275828135465?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2405315275828135465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/cute-picture-of-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/2405315275828135465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/2405315275828135465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/cute-picture-of-day.html' title='Cute picture of the day'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVtUhKlQwlI/AAAAAAAAALA/gSgEw38IEb8/s72-c/PC310085.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-2228045217857945847</id><published>2008-12-28T13:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T14:51:13.509-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='survey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new year&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2008'/><title type='text'>Denise's 2008 In Retrospect Survey</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1# What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interned, got straight A's in college, made the Dean's list, barhopped in Manhattan, spent more than $100 on a meal, botched an interview, subletted an apartment, worked an entire summer, co-edited a section of the college paper, won a writing award, outright refused to forgive, willed myself to forgive, worked out more than 3x a week, took the GRE, learned to bake, regretted a decision, pulled a legitimate all-nighter for homework, planned a party, attended a couple of Asian-American conferences, conducted a desk side, went to Bible study (willingly), changed denominations, defended my faith, nearly lost my faith, definitely lost my phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2# Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only resolution I remember making in 2007 would be that 2008 would be better. Of course, the circumstances are beyond my control, but I resolved to at least have a better mindset. I succeeded at some points, failed at others, and am resolving, again, to do better next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3# Did anyone close to you die? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4# What countries did you visit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taiwan, USA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5# What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A paying job, inner peace, proper sleep (not happening), a tougher heart, more game, dancing skills, a discerning spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6# What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember dates, only months, but as this entire year was pretty meaningful, I might as well do a basic timeline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mid-January - Early May:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;College life (academics, social, "love life," extracurriculars, interning) overkill. Too much on my plate. Wanted to gtfo asap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mid-May - Early June&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; Depressing. No job, no friends, supremely bored with life, wanted to change career direction, was confused about what I wanted out of life ("Do I still want to be a journalist? Do I want to write novels? CAN I write novels? Do I want to go to grad school? Am I a Christian? Does God exist? Do I want to stay in NYC? Did I handle my friendships wisely?"etc.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Early June - August&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; BEST PART OF THE YEAR, BY FAR. Had an excellent, eventful summer in Manhattan. Met a lot of people, got some career direction, interned somewhere fulfilling. Was challenged as a person by office life, church, and through relationships with certain individuals. In short, had the most awesome summer I could ask for, thanks to God and the people He put in my life at that time. Definitely the redeeming factor of 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;August - Early November&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt;Not too shabby. Had more than enough schoolwork and social events to keep me on my feet, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mid-November - December&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt;Repeat of the beginning of the year. Major overkill, stress  culminated into a huge emotional meltdown. Wanted to gtfo asap. Flew to Taiwan, where I am currently recovering. Must develop tougher skin for 2009!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7# What was your biggest achievement of the year? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Found a fulfilling internship, straight A's, Dean's list, college award, found joy in making new friends (which, as a super shy person, I usually hesitate to do.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8# What was your biggest failure? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acted on fear, walked on the safe side one time too often, didn't think before I spoke, didn't take initiative at my old internship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9# Did you suffer illness or injury? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a cold four times within six months. Threw up a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10# What was the best thing you bought? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second-gen iPod Touch, a new LBD, high heels that I can actually walk in, a Lenovo laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11# Whose behavior merited celebration? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody at one point or another. Lame answer, I know, but I don't like giving names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12# Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13# Where did most of your money go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My summer apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14# What did you get really, really, really excited about? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding an internship I liked after sending 30+ resumes and cover letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15# What song will always remind you of 2008?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just Dance," Lady GaGa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;16# Compared to this time last year,are you happier or sadder?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same - again, unsure of what the following months will entail and dreading my always-rocky path to redemption (that is, spending 2009 correcting 2008....ask me over a glass of Chardonnay sometime, sigh.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;17# What do you wish you’d done more of?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exercised, told people how I honestly felt, acted on impulse, accepted more party invitations, gone on more dates (not because I want a BF, but because I regret spending so much money on food - JAYKAY.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;18# What do you wish you’d done less of? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opened my big fat mouth, let people walk all over me, relied on booze when in crowds instead of developing real social skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19# How will you be spending Christmas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my family in Taiwan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20# Did you fall in love in 2008?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;21# How many one-night stands? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zero. I was a real nerd this year, as I spent the better part of 2008 making up for 2007 - again, JAYKAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;22# What was your favorite TV program? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How I Met Your Mother."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;23# Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;24# What was the best book you read? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, &lt;/span&gt;by Junot Diaz, or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Unaccustomed Earth, &lt;/span&gt;by Jhumpa Lahiri. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;High Fidelity, &lt;/span&gt;by Nick Hornby, was also enjoyable, but definitely not of the same literary calibre as the other two books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;25# What was your greatest musical discovery? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy Winehouse's pre-druggie CD, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frank. &lt;/span&gt;"Take the Box" is heartbreaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26# What did you want and get? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Career direction, a church and small group that actually helped me grow spiritually, friends who called me out when I needed a reality check, people who told me what they really thought  (even when it wasn't what I wanted to hear), more social circles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;27# What did you want and not get? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A job offer, toned thighs, a love life that isn't a joke, a better grasp on comma usage, the ability to forgo inappropriate sarcasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;28# What was your favorite film of this year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOO MANY. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ironman, The Orphanage, Wall-E, Kung Fu Panda, The Dark Knight &lt;/span&gt;(duh.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;29# What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually organized a party instead of being anti-social, as I'd planned earlier. 22.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;30# What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had taken more chances instead of being such a wallflower/wimp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;31# How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When in doubt, change your hairstyle. I'll do a picture timeline of this soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;32# What kept you sane? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought that in exactly a year, the problems I have now will probably be over/irrelevant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;33# Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gerard Butler, my birthday twin, as always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;34# What political issue stirred you the most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The US election, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;35# Who did you miss? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of people who probably don't feel the same way :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;36# Who was the best new person you met? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't play favorites, but I have a few contenders in mind ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;37# Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Trust God, not people.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't compromise in hope that you'll inspire the other person (whether it be a friend, frenemy, roommate, crush, significant other, sibling, boss, coworker) to come around. They won't. Go for what you want, and if it doesn't work out, at least you tried.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't let chances pass you by because you'd rather life do the work for you. It's not going to. Life ain't fair, life don't care.&lt;br /&gt;- Although people are inherently flawed and ultimately selfish, don't sell them short or you might not recognize the times they come through for you. Cut them some slack by keeping in mind that they're human, they make mistakes, and so do you. Forgive them, forgive yourself, and move on.&lt;br /&gt;- Don't share more about yourself and your plans than absolutely necessary.&lt;br /&gt;- Open your heart to new relationships. You can never have enough friends.&lt;br /&gt;- Burning bridges is stupid. Life's short, and you never know when you'll regret not keeping in contact (or at least keeping things civil) with another person or group of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;38# Quote a song lyric that sums up your year&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How can I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,&lt;br /&gt;And the love the offender, yet detest th' offence?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-2228045217857945847?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2228045217857945847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/denises-2008-in-retrospect-survey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/2228045217857945847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/2228045217857945847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/denises-2008-in-retrospect-survey.html' title='Denise&apos;s 2008 In Retrospect Survey'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-2090926477223433959</id><published>2008-12-21T00:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T00:11:27.859-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='korean dramas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self-pity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guilty pleasure'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='asian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>My Antidrug For Self-Pity</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/b-gcX5g3tlY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/b-gcX5g3tlY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ULTIMATE GUILTY PLEASURE. If only I still had time to indulge in Korean dramas to my heart's content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judge me all you want, but I am not ashamed of my love~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, talk about a huuuge reality check when I stopped watching dramas and started living out some of my own. Jaykay. Nothing ever happens to me T_T.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admittedly, given the chance, I'd happily bear the burden of a crappy love life if I, like Song Hye Kyo, could have Rain waiting for me at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you guys the anime smiley.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-2090926477223433959?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2090926477223433959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-antidrug-for-self-pity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/2090926477223433959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/2090926477223433959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-antidrug-for-self-pity.html' title='My Antidrug For Self-Pity'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-1900220388623860818</id><published>2008-12-20T00:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T02:08:21.341-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><title type='text'>Horse Gets Head Stuck in Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCOEGK8N1I/AAAAAAAAAI4/2NKI_VAevjA/s1600-h/horse2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCOEGK8N1I/AAAAAAAAAI4/2NKI_VAevjA/s320/horse2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282878563932714834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCN4kuT0lI/AAAAAAAAAIw/a5Wxqh0RW_Q/s1600-h/horse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCN4kuT0lI/AAAAAAAAAIw/a5Wxqh0RW_Q/s320/horse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282878365975695954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Poor thing had to be freed with a chainsaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit to laughing at the pictures though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/3229053/Horse-gets-head-stuck-in-tree.html"&gt;Read the story here. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCEbQkiDbI/AAAAAAAAAIA/ErdzJatsZ9o/s1600-h/horse.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-1900220388623860818?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1900220388623860818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/horse-gets-head-stuck-in-tree.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/1900220388623860818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/1900220388623860818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/horse-gets-head-stuck-in-tree.html' title='Horse Gets Head Stuck in Tree'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCOEGK8N1I/AAAAAAAAAI4/2NKI_VAevjA/s72-c/horse2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-3631477709704532633</id><published>2008-12-18T04:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T23:30:14.815-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>My Horrible Past: Excerpts of Love Stories I Wrote at 16</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVBpGqGQf2I/AAAAAAAAAH4/aljWQEOfXHI/s1600-h/pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVBpGqGQf2I/AAAAAAAAAH4/aljWQEOfXHI/s320/pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282837926006259554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I'll probably be up all night finishing my creative writing portfolio, I decided it wouldn't hurt to crack open the archives to see if I've improved over the years; and omgz, I HOPE I've improved from this. Holy cow, I was an effin SAP...see exhibits A, B, and C for evidence:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Bonus points if you can spot the common theme!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;[Closet Case]&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Plot synopsis: A snarky, handsome jock and a snobby nerd get stuck in the janitor's closet together. Love ensues.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first laid eyes on Devin Carter in my freshman year, he instantly struck me as a boy-band persona. Heck, even his name had a boy-band sort of ring to it.&lt;br /&gt;Devin was, unsurprisingly, an instant hit in our school. Guys admired him for his easy ways and ability to talk his way out of trouble. Girls fell head-over-heels in love with his guitar-playing, his dirty-blond hair, and his penchant for charm and petty troublemaking.&lt;br /&gt;However, as any common observer would note, what is deemed by the general public as a market hit is not necessarily known for its quality. Rather, it is known for its style, convenience, and ultimate conventionality that is easily mass-produced and cheaply bought. Take, for example, fast food. It’s not healthy, it doesn’t taste good, and heck, it doesn’t even look that good, but it’s cheap and quick and readily available and easy to gouge down. It’s hip, it’s trendy, and it’s the food of a generation that is too busy to sit down and enjoy a handsome six-course meal.&lt;br /&gt;Devin is a Big Mac. I don’t eat fast food. Case in point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;[Untitled]&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Plot Synopsis: Hot Stud unexpectedly falls for geeky girl. Geeky Girl unexpectedly falls for Hot Stud too! Hot Stud breaks Geeky Girl's heart. Will Geeky Girl EVER take him back?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were still in the wrong, but you know that. And I know I did some wrong things too, but I was inexperienced. You were the first boy who thought of me as something more than a source of study guides or erasers. You’d had lots of girls on your arm before I came along. You should know better.&lt;br /&gt;You look at me inquisitively. “Should I?” You ask.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that look. I really do. I tell you to stop doing this because it’s not going to work. You were a mistake. You were a freaking mistake, don’t you understand?!&lt;br /&gt;You draw me in and pull back a stray lock of hair. “Was I?” You whisper.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you were. You were the biggest mistake I ever made.&lt;br /&gt;But then…I suppose you were the best. But I don’t say that out loud.&lt;br /&gt;“Sometimes,” You say, standing up once more and offering me your hand. “It’s not about whether you made a mistake or not. It’s about making the right mistakes.”&lt;br /&gt;You made all the wrong ones. Did I?&lt;br /&gt;I decide that there’s time enough to make one more mistake. But better yet, there’s time enough to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;[Hey Denise]&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(DISCLAIMER: I often use my own name in stories, even though they're not about me, because I'm too lazy to think of other girl names.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Plot synopsis: Socially awkward girl falls for socially awkward guy. Socially awkward guy freaks out, which freaks out socially awkward girl in return. Angst ensues.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I should stop before I making all of you, or even myself, depressed. Not all schoolgirl crushes end like this. Only mine did. For weeks I labored, bent on killing it off before it killed me. It’s a process, and it’s dying a slow death, and though I’m now out of its grip, I still feel an almost tangible connection to it.&lt;br /&gt;It’s like this: I’m sitting in the library again, several months after that Friday afternoon in September. I’m flipping through my textbook, looking up only occasionally to see the time. Yet I can’t concentrate on my homework because there’s someone sitting less than ten feet away from me, laughing and playing cards with his friends. I finish exactly one Physics problem during those twenty minutes when my mind oscillates between foolish hope and bitter cynicism. And then in that situation, I sink even lower into the mire of my imagination by remembering things past and wondering if they can be repeated.&lt;br /&gt;I hear something shuffle behind me, and from the corner of my eye I spy the familiar lazy gait and a flash of spiky hair. My whole body tenses as the sound grows closer and then stops about half a foot away from where I’m sitting.&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, Denise.”&lt;br /&gt;I look up and see that grin again.  Then I purge the wonderment from the air and tell myself that it’s only a dream.&lt;br /&gt;Isn’t it?&lt;br /&gt;I’ll never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....and there's a lot more where that came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's almost as sad as the quality of writing is that each of these stories were the fantasy story of my life at age 16...and now that I'm 22, that still hasn't really changed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-3631477709704532633?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3631477709704532633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-horrible-past-excerpts-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/3631477709704532633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/3631477709704532633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-horrible-past-excerpts-of-love.html' title='My Horrible Past: Excerpts of Love Stories I Wrote at 16'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVBpGqGQf2I/AAAAAAAAAH4/aljWQEOfXHI/s72-c/pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-637019436658389923</id><published>2008-12-11T23:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T23:39:15.686-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nerdiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mentalfloss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trivia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shakespeare'/><title type='text'>Courtesy of Mr. Shakespeare</title><content type='html'>from &lt;a href="http://www.mentalfloss.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mentalfloss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fool’s paradise—Romeo and Juliet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tower of strength—Richard III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods—King Lear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bated breath—The Merchant of Venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brevity is the soul of wit—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come full circle—King Lear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come what may—Macbeth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conscience does make cowards of us all—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowards die many times before their deaths—Julius Caesar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dead as a doornail—Henry VI, part 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Devil incarnate—Henry V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eaten me out of house and home—Henry IV, part 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog will have its day—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flaming youth—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For goodness sake—Henry VIII&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frailty, thy name is woman—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get thee to a nunnery—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good riddance—Troilus and Cressida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Green-eyed monster—Othello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halcyon days—Henry VI ****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold a candle to—The Merchant of Venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am fortune’s fool—Romeo and Juliet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have immortal longings in me—Antony and Cleopatra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not slept one wink—Cymbeline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my mind’s eye—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Into thin air—The Tempest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Greek to me—Julius Caesar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knock, knock! Who’s there? —Macbeth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughing-stock—The Merry Wives of Windsor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, what fools these mortals be!—A Midsummer Night’s Dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is blind—The Merchant of Venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own flesh and blood—The Merchant of Venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My salad days, when I was green in judgment—Antony and Cleopatra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a mouse stirring—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now is the winter of our discontent—Richard III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One fell swoop—Macbeth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One that loved not wisely, but too well—Othello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out, damned spot!—Macbeth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out, out, brief candle—Macbeth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pomp and Circumstance—Othello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put out the light—Othello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep—Henry VI, Part II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spotless reputation—Richard III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Star-crossed lovers—Romeo and Juliet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stood on ceremonies—Julius Caesar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweets to the sweet—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The better part of valour is discretion—Henry IV, part 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The course of true love never did run smooth—A Midsummer Night’s Dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose—The Merchant of Venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers—Henry VI, part 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game is afoot—Henry IV, part 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The naked truth—Love’s Labour’s Lost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady doth protest too much, methinks—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world’s mine oyster—The Merry Wives of Windsor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Tis neither here nor there—–Othello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To thine own self be true—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much of a good thing—As You Like It&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown—Henry IV, part 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are such stuff as dreams are made on–The Tempest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a piece of work is a man—Hamlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the dickens—The Merry Wives of Windsor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What’s done is done—Macbeth&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-637019436658389923?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/637019436658389923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/courtesy-of-mr-shakespeare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/637019436658389923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/637019436658389923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/courtesy-of-mr-shakespeare.html' title='Courtesy of Mr. Shakespeare'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-6355922835244028652</id><published>2008-12-02T23:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T00:04:00.779-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nerdiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literature'/><title type='text'>Books Over Men</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;originally posted 7/22/07&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday afternoon, I fell in love. If there are two worldly things that I love shamelessly, they are books and men. Of course, I'm fond of the usual "girl things" like Godiva chocolates, non-ergonomic shoes, or leather watches, but none of these paltry commodities call for my possession as persuasively as the aforementioned loves. Although I judge both by their cover, I pay attention only after a quick skim arouses my desire for emotional connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People mistakenly assume that my love for literature makes me an excellent source for book recommendations. WRONG. It is at this time that I will make three overripe confessions:&lt;br /&gt;1) I have horrible taste in novels. This, combined with my commitment issues, results in&lt;br /&gt;2) my inability to finish the novels that I purchase or borrow, which culminates in my sad admittance that&lt;br /&gt;3) I've finished less than eight novels (besides those of the Harry Potter persuasion) during the past 2-3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ability to love, therefore, is disproportionate to the refinement of my taste and the continuance of my attraction. No amount of reviews or word-of-mouth reputations can make me finish a novel if my infatuation were confined to that first skim. Oftentimes, I find that the best-enjoyed novels are those that I read begrudgingly, if only to satisfy a course requirement or to silence a nagging recommender. It is with these initially unremarkable novels that I enjoy an intimate love affair, one that simultaneously polishes my diminished veneration for literature and restores my faith in its enchantments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now to the topic of greater interest - men. Ah, men. If only I could put them away as easily as I do an unsatisfying read. Books, I fall in love with quickly but at least abandon with even greater rapidity. I won't be as hasty to attach the blame solely to my seemingly horrible taste; no, I blame my heart's unrelenting longing to meld with something, anything to make it feel capable of intimacy with a foreigner familiar only in its own yearnings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me a masochist, but oftentimes, the books I cherish the most are those that inflict the most pain - whose pages echo the grim musings of one not unlike myself. As I was saying earlier, yesterday, I fell in love with Alain de Botton's &lt;i&gt;Essays on Love.&lt;/i&gt; While I hesitate to say that it's a good book (because I haven't read it), the portions that I did read tempted me with the prospect of someone who understands, even if that someone is really a 200-page something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good book is, perhaps, the most faithful companion to a lonely heart. It is also the quickest cure for denial. I approach my personal demons like I do their images as depicted in scary movies - with my head crouched and one hand covering my eyes. I attribute the worst to the the ghoulish shrieking of televised victims, my self-inflicted blindness doing little to erase the resonating horror. Good literature captures those demons with words and forces me, the reader, to confront them vicariously through another. Perhaps, I think to myself, if the author were able to produce such a marvelous piece of art from so grotesque a source, I can do the same. With the encouragement of a good book, I too, can fight these forces beleaguering me with self-doubt and depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am, admittedly, a participant in a cursed love affair with books. As much as I love them, I can't profess to be well-read or knowledgeable about English literature. I have never read &lt;i&gt;The Bell Jar&lt;/i&gt;. I haven't touched &lt;i&gt;Hamlet&lt;/i&gt;. Yet somehow, something prevents me from adopting a defeatist attitude. I don't actually read, I tell myself, but I am not a victim. I am not a failure. As they say, you can't fail if you don't give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might not experience much success with books, a literary career, and yes, even love in the form of human romantic aspirations, but as melancholy as it all feels during solitary summer evenings, I can't bring myself to admit unhappiness at this seemingly sorry state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the problem this time isn't denial, but the simple fact that I am not actually sorry - and perhaps, when I'm estranged from all contradictory thought, I can admit without hesitation that that isn't a problem at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-6355922835244028652?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6355922835244028652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/books-over-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/6355922835244028652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/6355922835244028652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/books-over-men.html' title='Books Over Men'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4223194377028192050.post-8682167758467854507</id><published>2008-11-30T23:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T00:05:06.442-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>How to Give Yourself a Heart Attack</title><content type='html'>1) Whittle away your Thursday and Friday writing a screenplay. Write 20 pages per sitting. Write a vast majority of that screenplay on a school computer. Email the document to yourself. Once you're on your own computer, download the document and continue working on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) On the Friday night, after you've been in the library for 7 hours (using your own laptop), take a break by cleaning up your hard drive. Close and carefully save the precious Word documents on your computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think you know where this is going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Click "free up space on your hard drive" prompt and include Temporary Files as well as the contents of your recycle bin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Once that's done, click on "My Documents" and look for your monster of a screenplay...........and fail to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Realize, with horror, that in your stupidity, you downloaded your screenplay and began working on it while it was still in the "TEMP" file that hotmail automatically saves documents to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Have a jarring flashback of your mouse button clicking "DELETE TEMPORARY INTERNET FILES" when you were clearing your hard drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Frantically google "recover files from recycle bin" and read instructions only to see "BUY OUR $500 SOFTWARE AND INSTALL" as the last step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Fill up the bathtub with water, climb in, and bring your laptop with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Die of electrocution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Before you decide to kill yourself, think back and have a vision of yourself clicking "clean 'C' drive ONLY"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Open your email account, re-download your file, and watch it going into the "D" drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Explore the TEMP file in your "D" drive and stumble upon GLORIOUS TREASURE: YOUR SCREENPLAY AS YOU LAST SAW IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Thank Jesus, the saints, and the Holy Mother ... and then save your screenplay onto every drive and email account possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God doesn't hate me after all, it seems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;originally written on 11/30/07&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4223194377028192050-8682167758467854507?l=undercoverromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8682167758467854507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-to-give-yourself-heart-attack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/8682167758467854507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4223194377028192050/posts/default/8682167758467854507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://undercoverromantic.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-to-give-yourself-heart-attack.html' title='How to Give Yourself a Heart Attack'/><author><name>Denise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12442919827400219185</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XiCz76mNm5k/SVCSwZmorNI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A39aYASNxbU/S220/denise.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
